


Report from the Rim

by Carolyn_Spencer



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolyn_Spencer/pseuds/Carolyn_Spencer
Summary: Behind the machinations of bureaucracy lurk the lives of real people.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	Report from the Rim

**STATUS***SEALED**

*******EYES ONLY*******

**STARFLEET BUREAU OF MINES/PRISONS-BUREAU CHIEF: DIANA FOSTER**

**  
INTERVIEW RECORD**

**Planet:** Drana V

**Location:** Colonial City / Sheltek Prison / Room 219

**Stardate:** 3414.5

**Time:** 1046 -1358

**Interviewer:** Miles Farnon (Lieutenant Commander) - Starfleet Bureau of Mines/Prisons

**Subject:** Jesum Barak (Prisoner ID # : 9473-559-424)

**Others Present:** None

**Re:** Recent incarceration of Federation citizen.

**Comments:** Jesum Barak is presently serving a life sentence for murder.

**Print Copy:** YES - to accompany taped record

**Attachments:** Prisoner record 

**Form: SF.I.004823/A**

_Come in, Mister Barak. Please sit down. The authorities will not allow holos or any sort of visual reproductions, but you do understand that I'll be taping this conversation?_

Barak will do. Yes, no surprise there.

My name is Miles Farnon. This instrument will allow us to understand each other. No one outside this room will overhear us. I give you my word on that. 

_Are you here under your own volition, Mister Barak?_

Barak...I told you to call me Barak, and what does that mean...voliti...what you said.

_It means that I'm asking you if anyone, a prison official or anyone else, ordered you to come here today to talk to me or threatened you in any way._

They said you could give me extra food if I talked to you. Is that the truth?

_I can see that you're authorized for extra rations, yes, but I will do that whether you choose to talk to me or not, Mister...I'm sorry...Barak, is that correct?_

And blankets. I want blankets. At least two. No, three. I want three.

_All right._

And you'd give them to me whether I talk to you or not?

_That's correct. You're free to leave right now, if you wish._

Free to leave. That's a joke, right?

_Free to leave this room, Barak. I don't have the authority to release you from your sentence._

What's that you're wearing? Some kind of uniform?

_Yes, I'm a lieutenant commander in Starfleet._

Starfleet? What's that?

_It's the service branch of the Federation. Do you know of the Federation?_

Federatti? Yeah. You show up here every once in a while to see if we've changed our minds about joining your little group. Last I heard, we hadn't.

_And when did you learn of it?_

I ain't always been in here, you know. Federattis been coming here a long time. Prisoners fill each other in on what's happening outside.

_I see. How long have you been incarcerated...been in Sheltek Prison?_

Don't know. Maybe twenty years. Thirty? Anyway, it's been a long time.

**_*See attached file. Jesum Barak has been in Sheltek Prison for thirty-seven Standard years._ **

_I'm interested in one particular prisoner. He would have seemed quite strange to you._

You mean the Vulcan.

_Yes. How did you-_

I seen a Vulcan trader once when I first come down to the city. I tell Esma she looks like one when I meet her. Same dark hair. Only smaller and prettier. Don't have the pointed ears neither. She don't like it.

_Esma?_

Don't want to talk about her.

_All right. We don't have to discuss her. Let's get back to the Vulcan prisoner. When did you first notice him?_

When he beams down into the Pit. He's kind of hard to miss. That black hair and all. Most of us have light hair, blond or light brown. Like yours. Like mine.

_The Pit?_

That's what it's called.

_Why?_

Don't know what else you'd call it. 

_Can you describe it for me?_

A pit. Just like I said. No way in or out. No bars. No cages. No guards. Don't have to be. Durasteel walls, ceiling. Dirt floor with a force field five meters down. Just a hole dug fifty feet below ground.

_For how many prisoners?_

Don't know. Lots.

_A few hundred?_

Maybe.

_More? A thousand?_

Maybe. Never counted.

_I see. And how were you removed for exercise periods?_

You don't listen too good, Federatti. Only one way out of the Pit. They beam you in when you're sentenced. They beam you out when you die.

_You don't mean.... Mister Barak, is this the first time you've been out of the Pit?_

Well, since you don't look like Jepswah, the Holy, and since this room don't look like any tale of Haven that I ever heard, I guess I'm still alive, so....

_I'm sorry.... I hadn't realized.... We don't have to finish this conversation right now, Mister Barak. If you'd rather just...._

I want those extra rations.

_You'll get them. I told you that._

Not Mister Barak. Just Barak. Can I just look out the window a while?

_Yes. Yes, of course. Take as long as you need. Tape stop._

_Tape resumed. Time elapsed : 34.7 minutes._

I almost forgot how bright the sun is. How blue the sky. 

All right. Let's get on with it.

_If you're sure...?_

Yes...thank you for that.

_It's.... You're welcome._

What did you want to know?

_You were telling me about the Vulcan. How did he appear when he was beamed into the Pit?_

Good. He looks good. Pretty, you know? Of course you have to look past the dirt to see it. But he is. Couple a bruises on his face. Leg is torn up a bit. When the beam lets him go, he sort of crumbles down on it, but he catches himself before he can fall. That black hair. Straight in the front. Sort of curling round the neck. Covers the ears some, but you could still see those points. Thin. Tall. Nicest piece I seen in a while.

_Was he wearing a uniform?_

Uniform? Like you got on? No. Dark pants, shirt, boots. Has on a long cape that matches his hair. Almost reaches his knees. Hood on the back.

Right away Fendor says he'll take him, but he backs down when I say I will. He don't usually mess with me.

_Take him? I don't understand.... Take him where?_

Are all Federatti as thick between the ears as you are? Take him. Fuck him. No women in the Pit. Cold in the Pit at night. Hell, cold in the Pit all the time. Need a man's heat. Gresh don't like it, but then I don't care what Gresh likes.

_Gresh?_

Gresh. I'd been using him. Stupid little fuck likes it when I do him. Says he loves me. No such thing as love. Not down in the Pit. Not up here neither. Stupid little fuck. Know how he winds up in the Pit, Federatti? Steals some bread to feed his mother. She dies anyway while he's being tried. Like I said...stupid little fuck.

_I...see._

I'm thinking I'll do the Vulcan a favor. Looked weak, thin as he was. Fendor's a mean son of a bitch. He'd spread him around his group. 

_And with you?_

Oh, he'd last longer with me. Only it don't turn out that way.

_Why don't you tell me what happened._

Well, that's what I'm doing, ain't I?

_Yes...sorry._

I tell the others he's mine. That I‘m taking him. That's what you do. Announce it like. So I say, "My name is Barak, and I'm claiming this one." I put my hand on his arm to lead him to my patch, but his hand comes up and grabs my wrist. Holds on tight. It don't hurt or nothing, but I think he could if he wants to. I don't really look at his eyes before then. Too busy looking at the rest of him. Now I do. Dark brown they are. Almost black. 

"Where I am from, Mister Barak, we do not put our hands on another unless invited," he says. Spoken low. Deep voice. Calm like, but his eyes are hot. Then he lets go and starts to turn away.

I don't like that. Can't let him get away with that now, can I? With the others watching? They woulda thought I was going soft if I let him get away with that, now wouldn't they? I spin him around to face me again. Put my hand on his crotch. His eyes go wide. Then...I don't know. I still don't know how he does it, but his hand is at my shoulder all of a sudden. Gets real quiet then. He just sort of...squeezes...and the next thing I know I'm on my knees. Can't move at all. I'm all weak and dizzy. He lets go, and the feeling comes back in my legs, but slow...real slow. And I'm watching him limp away. The others laughing.

Lez and Darrew, they say they'll go after him, bring him back. "No," I tell them. "Let him go." And I'm thinking he don't know the ways of the Pit yet. He'll be back.

_The ways of the Pit?_

Different down in the Pit. I have my men, Fendor has his. Some others have theirs. Indies...independents that don't have a group don't last long. Nobody to watch their backs while they sleep. They're easy pickings then. I already see some of Fendor's men eyeing that cape the Vulcan got on and the body underneath it. He'll find out the score sooner or later and come crawling for some protection. Then he'll be mine, and all the sweeter for it.

Don't give me that look, Federatti. You got your bosses. I got mine, even if they're up here where I don't see ‘em. Everybody's got their rules to follow if they want to survive. Come to think about it, maybe things ain't so different down in the Pit after all.

I watch him then. All the time. The lights never go out in the Pit, and he's easy to keep track of. He don't sleep that I can see. Instead he goes looking.

_Looking?_

That's as close as I can put it. He keeps walking through the men, black head turning now and then, looking at the men's faces as he passes. Days he does it. He‘s doing it when I'm ready to sleep. He's doing it when I wake up. Days go by and the limp gets worse. He's pretty much dragging his leg now, but he don't stop, and he don't rest. I figure he's looking to tie up with someone with a prettier mug than mine, you know? Hell, no need to be so fussy. With his ass in the air and his face down in the dirt, he won't be looking much at my face anyhow.

That was a joke, Federatti, but you ain't laughing.

_No, I'm not, Barak, and it wasn't totally a joke, now was it?_

No...no, not totally. You know, you're pretty sharp for a Federatti. I might have to change my mind about you after all.

_I think we understand each other. Please go on._

Well, two, three days go by. Hard to tell day from night in the Pit. A few days anyhow. I set Gresh to keeping an eye on him while I'm sleeping. Suddenly Gresh comes to get me. Seems Fendor is running out of patience. Fendor, now...he's just big and stupid. I'm big, but I ain't stupid. I'm willing to wait for what I want. There's nothing but time down in the Pit and damn little to fill it.

Anyway Gresh comes to get me. I take Orin and Lez with me. Gresh is useless in a fight, stupid little fuck that he is. 

Fendor and two of his men, Jorsh and Kle, have the Vulcan neatly boxed in with his back against the wall. They're just talking to him. Don't need to hear the words to know what they're saying. I figure our resident Vulcan is having the facts of life in the Pit explained to him. Suddenly Jorsh goes for his right arm, Kle grabs his left, Fendor kicks his bad leg at the knee, and down on his back he goes. I plant myself where the Vulcan can see me easy. So he knows I can get him away. So he knows what the price will be for doing it. Those dark eyes of his flick over to me. He knows all he has to do is ask for my help. He knows all right. 

Fendor grins that sneering smile of his. "Stay outa this, Barak. You had your chance," he says. Between the bad breath and the rotted teeth I swear I can smell him from where I'm standing. I don't say nothing. After what the Vulcan pulled before he's gonna have to ask me, beg me to help him. 

Fendor reaches now. Peels that black cape away like he's unwrapping a present, and puts his hand right on the Vulcan's balls. Gentle at first he is. Then he squeezes. The Vulcan's eyes go wide. Fendor reaches for the clasp to the Vulcan's pants and opens it, and I'm thinking he's gonna fuck him right there. Right there on the ground. Still I'm not moving. Fendor plants his foot on the Vulcan's bad leg at the knee to hold him still. See, that's Fendor. Mean through and through. He figures that extra pain's gonna do it. The Vulcan's face goes a bit paler, but he don't say nothing. Fendor should've put his foot on the other leg. The good one. Because that's the one the Vulcan uses to kick Fendor right in the privates. I'm watching the little O's that Jorsh and Kle's mouths turn into, watching their grips on his arms tighten, watching while he's using those grips to bang their heads together. Sweet Jepswah, he's strong. It's over as quick as that. Fendor's men are down moaning and grabbing for their heads, and Fendor is clutching himself, rolling on the ground and weeping like a baby. 

Still the Vulcan falls back down when he tries to get up, and he needs the wall to help him do it the second time. He's hurting, but by the time he's got his pants shut and the black cloak closes around him again, he meets my eyes straight on. One black eyebrow goes up, and I could swear the man's laughing at me though his face don't move at all. "Good evening, Mister Barak," he says just as calm as you please. Then he turns and limps away.

That pleases you, don't it, Federatti?

_Yes, Barak, it does._

Me, too. Fendor's one mean son of a bitch. We cross paths from time to time. So far I'm the one who's come out ahead. But still I'm thinking Fendor ain't one to let this slide. He'll be looking to even the score. The Vulcan's back better be itching because a shiv's the next thing that's gonna touch it.

_Go on._

Well, after that word gets around. Anyone who can take down Fendor and two of his best men ain't nobody to mess with. Most just call him an Indie and stay out of his way, but their eyes watch him as he passes.

_Most? And you, Barak? What did you think?_

Want to know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that when he comes to me-and make no mistake about that, Federatti, he was gonna come to me sooner or later-I was gonna have me the best fuck of my life. 

Of course, that was before I knew he was crazy.

_Crazy, how?_

Maybe it's the next day. Yeah, the next day it is. I know because by then the Vulcan walks all through the Pit twelve times over. Maybe more. Only one place he don't go. The dead pile.

_The dead pile. Explain to me how that works._

People die in the Pit, Federatti. People die in the Pit all the time. Men kill each other over a scrap of food. A piece of ripped cloth. Anything. Everything. Men will do most anything to stay alive for one more day, one more hour. A man'll kill another just ‘cause he don't like the way he looks at him. Sell his body for scraps. The fever takes a lot of them. The cold and wet seeps into your lungs after a while. Had the fever a time or two myself. Me, I been lucky. Lucky. There are times I think the ones who die are the lucky ones.

You see, it was only after I see the dead pile that I figure there's somebody up here watching what goes on in the Pit. Maybe not all the time, maybe not even most of the time, but some of the time there's somebody watching. Now the food works the same way, but somehow it's the dead pile that makes it real. That's how you can tell the new prisoners. They see the dead pile beamed up, and they figure it out. The ones up here. They never wait too long. Fifteen, twenty bodies. Then they beam ‘em out. I seen the pile at thirty sometimes. Never done at regular times, near as I can tell. But they don't wait too long. Sometimes we bet on how many it'll take before they beam ‘em out. 

_God...Barak._

Jepswah? No. No god down in the Pit. There's not one up here neither. No love and no god.

_You were...._

Federatti?

_Yes, sorry. You were telling me about the new prisoners?_

You can always tell the new ones. They figure if there are people watching, maybe they're listening, too. Their eyes are on the ceiling, and they're saying how someone's made this big mistake. They don't belong in the Pit. Oh, no, not them, you see. Not in this hell. There has been this huge, this fucking huge mistake. They start in low. Just whispers. Then louder. Then they're screaming it. Takes days sometimes for ‘em to stop. But I don't mind the screaming, Federatti. Want to know why?

_Why, Barak?_

‘Cause nobody ever answers, and the silence when they give up hope is worse.

_And the Vulcan?_

Not all the new ones are screamers. Most, but not all. A few, a very few of ‘em just go crazy quiet like. They're still screaming all right. They're just doing it on the inside where it don't show. They're the dangerous ones, the ones you have to look out for. 

When I see what the Vulcan's doing at the dead pile I figure he's one of those.

_Tell me._

At first he don't do nothing. Steps up on the platform and just stands there, but I can see the shivers running through him. He presses his hands together and clenches his eyes shut. Then it passes, whatever it is. He loses all the expression from his face. And when he opens his eyes...there's no one there.

_I don't understand._

I never seen eyes like that on a man...not a live one anyway. It's almost like what he is on the inside goes away somewhere, and just this...shell...is left. And it's the shell that goes through the bodies one by one. 

_Does he take anything? Clothing?_

Ain't nothing there to take, Federatti. Dead men don't have no use for clothes. Or weapons. Live ones do. And a jagged piece of bone can cut through a man's neck as easy as a knife.

You're giving me that look again, Federatti. Think you're so different? Put you down in the Pit-you with your pretty uniform and your clean, well-fed body-and in six months you'd be scrabbling around in the dirt like the rest of us.

_That was...unprofessional of me, Mister Barak. Sorry...Barak. It won't happen again. Please continue._

Ain't much more to tell. He goes through the bodies, turning over those who are face down. When he's finished he steps back away from the pile. His eyes clench shut again, and he shudders. Once. When he opens his eyes, I see he's back inside himself again somehow. And there's this crazy mix of relief and sorrow and...pain somehow on his face. It hurts him to touch those bodies, Federatti. It hurts him someplace deep inside. He pulls the cape close around him like he's cold sudden like. Then he turns away, dragging that leg, and hobbles back into the crowd.

But it wasn't ‘til I see him when the food bell rings that I really think he's gone crazy.

_The bell?_

Yeah. That's how they do it, you see. They never do it regular. It's like the dead pile. Just when you think they're gonna let you starve to death, that's when the bell rings and they beam the food in. Never enough. Never goddamn enough. And never in the same place so you can count on it. Maybe they like to see us fight over it, kill each other over it, be the animals they think we are. Maybe they think we're getting what we deserve. Maybe it's even worse than that, and they don't give a shit. The bell just rings and the food shows up, and them that's nearby gets it, and them that's far away don't. Me, I got men placed in different parts of the Pit when I figure the time's close.

Anyway, the bell rings and the food beams in right close to where I'm standing this time. My men are getting most of it. That's why I have ‘em. I'm the one left standing, and they're below me in the dirt. They're fighting over scraps in the dirt. You understand, Federatti? I'm the one left standing. When I look up there he is. Twenty meters away maybe. And he's standing, too. I'm thinking he better get his share before it's all gone, but he don't. He just stands there, and his eyes meet mine over the noise. Like he's too good to go down on his knees in the dirt. Like he's expecting something from me. Almost like he's disappointed in me. What the hell he expect me to do, Federatti? Answer me that. Like I could do something. Like I cared who lived or died. Like I could make a difference. I look out for myself. If I don't, nobody will.

What kind of man is that? He don't sleep. He don't eat. I woulda thought he's a demon ‘cept I know better. He ain't no demon cause he hurts, Federatti. He hurts in his leg. He hurts in his mind.

_Then what happened?_

When the dust settles and the fighting is over, my men bring the food back to me to be divvied up. I lose sight of him.

_The food. How does that work?_

I take what I want, that's how it works. I make sure each of my men gets his share. What I say is his share and no more. Them that steal from me don't do it a second time.

_And the Vulcan?_

He takes some water from one of the spigots, that's all.

Next time I catch sight of him, he's missing the sleeve of his tunic.

_Had he been in a fight?_

That's what I think at first, but then I see him again, and a piece of his trousers is missing. I send Gresh out to watch him. He comes back and tells me that crazy Vulcan is giving away his clothes.

_I thought you told me it was cold in the Pit._

Cold, Federatti? Cold as a thoran's thatch. I tell Gresh he must be wrong about what he sees. Selling ‘em maybe, for food. Gresh says he ain't. I curse him out for getting it wrong, I do. But I see him do it. The other sleeve goes to Kras to bind up his arm after a knife fight. A sock to one of Lazer's men for his infected foot. Giving away his clothes. All the while the breath coming out of the Vulcan's mouth, steaming in the air. Not the cloak. Never the cloak. That at least he has sense enough to keep.

_Why do you suppose he did that, Barak?_

Why? ‘Cause he's crazy like I said. No sane man does the things he does. But Beshan...that was different somehow.

_Beshan?_

This one time I see him crouching over something on the ground. I go over to have a look. One of Fendor's men-well, he used to be one of Fendor's-a young kid named Beshan is lying on the ground over by the wall, the Vulcan bending over him. Fendor been using him. Kicks him out to fend for himself when he comes down with the fever. Can't catch it that way, but like I say, Fendor's stupid. Since then Beshan's been selling his ass to any taker for food. Right away I could see the kid was close to the end. He‘s shaking all over and curling up on his side holding his gut. The Vulcan rips off another part of his tunic, wets it from one of the spigots. He goes to his knees, gathers Beshan in his arms and washes down the kid's face. 

I go closer. Then I can hear him, too. Talking to the kid slow and deep. Murmuring. The sound seems to calm the kid a little. Beshan keeps saying he's cold. Over and over he says it. Damned if the Vulcan don't take off his cloak and wraps the kid up in it. All of a sudden Beshan starts to cough. The Vulcan lifts him. Holds him against his chest. A spurt of red blood pours out of Beshan's mouth. The look in the kid's eyes.... "Help me," he begs. Over and over he says it. He knows he's dying, and he's scared, Federatti. He starts thrashing, grasping at the Vulcan's clothes, frantic. Choking on his own blood. The Vulcan only holds him tight while the spatters of red hit his face, his chest. Talking to him. Then he...he puts his hand on the boy's face, his jaw and cheek and forehead. The shivering stops. Beshan's eyes grow wide, and he stops thrashing around. Whatever the Vulcan's doing is easing the boy's pain. A slight smile is on his face, and he relaxes into the Vulcan's arms. Slowly Beshan's eyes close. His breathing is slow but steady, the Vulcan matching it breath for breath. I watch. He takes that boy's pain, Federatti. Takes it right inside himself. Nobody else sees it, but I do.

_Barak?_

He takes it, Federatti. If I hadn't been looking at his face.... That pain don't go away. He feels it. All of it. The lines by the side of his face deepen. The muscle by his right eye twitches. His lips thin and tighten. But he never says nothing. Just...he just holds him real gentle. Over the next few hours the boy's breathing slows until finally it stops. There's a smile on his face when he dies. I look at the Vulcan. He stops breathing, too. And he don't seem to know it. It's almost like the boy is taking the Vulcan with him. I run over. I use all my strength to try to pull the Vulcan's hand from the boy's face, Federatti, but it's.... I can't do it. He's holding that kid to his chest, and now his body starts thrashing with wanting air, and still he don't breathe. I shake him as hard as I can. Don't do shit. Finally I lace my hands together and start backhanding him and shouting into his face.

That seems to do it. He gasps. Loud and rasping. Breathes hard. Panting. Looks from me to the boy in his arms, and lays him down. Then he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes until his breathing steadies. When he opens them again you don't know there's anything wrong ‘cept his eyes show he's still hurting. He's hurting for that boy. 

He takes a deep breath and unwraps the cloak from around the body. Puts it back on and starts removing the kid's clothes. Gentle and careful he is to touch him as little as possible. When he's done he picks him up and heads for the dead pile. I follow him. "You'd better take the clothes, too," I tell him. "They won't be here when you get back." 

He stops for a moment. "Yes, I know," he says. "It is only logical that someone makes use of them." He looks down at the body he's holding. "What was his name?" I tell him, and he meets my eyes. "Beshan no longer needs them," he says.

He lays the boy down on the platform, straightens up and turns to me. "I believe you may have saved my life. Thank you." 

"Just how grateful are you, Vulcan?" I ask. One black brow rises up into his hair, and a glint of laughter sparks in his eyes along with the pain.

"Not that grateful, Mister Barak." He starts to move away, and the words come out of my mouth before I can stop ‘em. 

"You know Beshan was here for a reason, Vulcan," I say. "He murdered his own brother over a woman." 

He turns back to me, gives me that look like when the food was beamed down, that same look like he expects me to understand without having to be told. The laughter winks out of his eyes then until only the pain is left. 

"No one deserves to die alone, Mister Barak, no matter what he has done," he says, then shows me his back.

He don't even know Beshan's name. He almost dies for someone, and he don't even know his name. You have to be crazy to do that, don't you, Federatti? You have to be stone crazy.

_And yet you did it._

Huh? I did what?

_Try to save a man's life without knowing his name._

Well, I...I hadn't had him yet. That was it. Of course, that was it. Couldn't let him die before I'd had him.

_Oh, I see._

You want to hear the rest of this or not?

_Yes, I'd like to hear the rest._

‘Cause we can stop this right here. You can give me what you said...the blankets and food, and we can stop this right here.

_No, I want to hear the rest. Go on, please._

All right. Long as you understand the rules.

A few hours after that, they beam up the latest dead pile. Sometimes we get the new prisoners then, and this time we do. Only one this time. This one is different from the Vulcan. He's wearing ordinary brown pants and a lighter brown tunic over them. Both are dirty and torn in places, and the tunic well, that's more gone than not. The man looks the worse for wear, too. He's got a cut over his right eye, still bleeding red, and some bruises at his jaw and cheek, like maybe he had fought them topside. Light brown hair straggled down in his face. When the beam lets him go, he crouches down like a fighter. Good reflexes, I give him that. Most prisoners just look scared when they see the Pit for the first time. You ever see a cow right before it's slaughtered, Federatti? Most new ones have that same wounded look in their eyes. Not him. Green eyes, he has, and they narrow with suspicion, taking it all in. Great ass. Pretty in his own way as the Vulcan is maybe.

I'm thinking of taking him when Lez and Orin start arguing over who gets him first. Looks like he'll cause more trouble with my men than he'll be worth. Got me thinking I'll pass on this one. Fendor steps up, but before he can open his mouth, the Vulcan is there from out of nowhere. "My name is Spock," he says. "And I am claiming this one." His voice is low, but it carries, and there's no missing the warning in the dark eyes.

_What did the other man do?_

He's rubbing the blood from his eye as the Vulcan...as Spock steps up on the platform. Holding his side, too, like maybe he cracked a rib or something. That's when I figure out they know each other from topside.

_How did you know that, Barak?_

Spock takes off that cloak. Careful. Slow. Puts it around the other one. And now I know who he's been saving it for. He don't say nothing, but his whole body changes. He's taller somehow. Straighter. I'm more used to reading his face now than I was, and there's joy now in his eyes. You don't see that in the Pit, Federatti. Not ever. 

"Jim," Spock says. A whisper, a sound like you'd hear in church, maybe.

The other one mouths his name, and one hand comes out of the cloak to touch Spock's face. The Vulcan don't back away. There's no warning in his eyes. You see, this one has permission to touch. Some other time, some other place, this one has been given that right.

And then the other one, that Jim, smiles. Lights up his face, it does. Changes it. I ain't seen the sun since I been in the Pit, Federatti. Not ‘till today, but that's what it put in me in mind of. The sun coming out on a cloudy day. And the Vulcan warming himself in that heat.

Then sudden like the other one's eyes roll back in his head, and he starts to fold. Spock catches him, picks him up in his arms. Just for a minute Spock's eyes close as he's holding the other one to his chest, and he sighs. They open then, and he steps down from the platform. I lose him in the crowd. 

Next time the food's beamed in I'm looking for him, but I don't see him at first. I'm looking for him to be standing up, you see. Then I see him. No cloak. No shirt. He's wearing only what's left of his pants, a black undershirt with short sleeves and boots, and he's down in the dirt grabbing what he can get. He don't take nothing from no one else, but he's taking what he can. Gives me a funny feeling, Federatti, seeing him down there in the dirt. Like...like...Like maybe seeing him down there made him like everyone else. I don't like it. Feel disappointed in him somehow. 

Sudden like Lez is there, arms loaded with food, and he plants his foot on the Vulcan's hand, mashing it down into the dirt, a sneering half-smile on his face. I seen Lez break a man's neck with one blow. He could crush the Vulcan's hand into pulp and take pleasure in it. Spock glances up at him once, just once, and then he looks away to find my face. Like he don't give Lez a second thought. Like he ain't worth thinking about. Both of them looking at me, Lez waiting for my signal. Spock's staring at me, and the message he's sending is clear. Call him off, he's saying with those hard dark eyes, and there was a coldness there that I felt down through my bones. Call him off...or else. That food...that food that wasn't important enough to fight for before...it was important now. The Vulcan ain't a man who fights when there's another way, but he's gonna have that food, Federatti, and no one and nothing is gonna stop him. I shake my head at Lez. He takes his foot off the Vulcan's hand, still sneering that stupid smile of his, and never knows I most likely just saved his life.

Spock has trouble standing up. That leg just don't hold him upright, and he goes down to one knee. I watch him get himself together and try it again and then again. Takes him three times ‘til he makes it. I follow him when he leaves. That leg ain't gonna hold out much longer. I see the others watching him, always watching him. When the leg goes...that's when the wolves will close in.

The Vulcan had staked out a patch for himself against the far wall, and that's where the other one is waiting. The last part of Spock's shirt is wrapped tight around his chest binding the ribs, and a piece is covering the cut over his eye. He's still in the Vulcan's cloak and looks better than he did at first, but not by much. He's watching the Vulcan come limping up. Frowning. Like maybe Spock is too slow getting the food, or something, but he don't say nothing that I can tell.

Spock had set Zatan, one of Relot's men, to watching over him and pays with a hunk of bread. He hands that other one, that Jim, some food, but he can't keep hold of it and it falls back into his lap. Damn if that Vulcan don't gather Green Eyes in his arms and feed him the rest of the food piece by piece.

He don't....

_Barak?_

He don't take nothing for himself. Nothing, Federatti.

When the other one is finished eating, he seems real tired. Spock eases him down and makes sure the cloak is tucked in around him. He leans that long body of his back against the wall, draws up his knees and crosses his arms around them. Spock's shivering real bad, the breath from his nose and mouth making clouds in the air. But his eyes, Federatti? His eyes don't move from the other's face.

_Then what happened?_

Gresh brings me some food. I have to go back and split up the rest for the others, now don't I? Don't I? I ...I can't be watching him all the time, Federatti, can I?

_You were embarrassed watching them._

There you go again, Federatti, putting words in my mouth. No. Not embarrassed. Not...not exactly. It just...just seemed.... Spock holding him so gentle...feeding him. Like for the Vulcan the Pit just wasn't there. Like it don't matter. Like it was just the two of them. I remember almost looking down at myself to see if I'm still there. Stupid, huh?

_No, Barak, not stupid._

That's why I don't understand what happens next.

_Tell me._

Three, maybe four days go by. Next time I catch sight of them Jim is looking better, stronger, the bandages gone. And finally Spock is sleeping. Finally. And he's wrapped in the cloak. Jim is the one leaning against the wall. Sudden like he sits up. Grabs the Vulcan by the shirt and hauls him upright. Spock's head just falls to the side, falls back like one of them kid's toys, a puppet or something with no stuffing inside it. Jim hauls back his arm and hits Spock across the face. Hard. He does it again and again, the Vulcan's head just rocking side to side with each blow. Again, he does it. And again. Over and over. Green welts are rising on the Vulcan's face, and still he don't stop, and the Vulcan don't do nothing to stop him. I'm on my way over when Spock's hand finally comes up to grab Jim's as he's rearing back for another blow. I don't see Jim's face from where I am, but I see Spock's. Yeah, I see his face real clear. He breathes real deep a time or two, stares hard at Jim's hand caught in his own, then he looks up at Jim's face. There's...I don't know, Federatti...this wonder in his eyes, and...he starts to smile. He's looking up into Jim's face, the handprint bruises turning dark green, so clear there on his cheeks, and he's smiling.

Jim got no call to hit Spock like that! No call at all. And the Vulcan just lets him do it. Like he's grateful for it. 

There are some that like it like that, you know? Why, Federatti? You tell me why! Why would Spock let Jim do that to him, strong as he is? Why...why would anyone?

_I don't know, Barak._

You got a woman, Federatti? Somewhere? Waiting for you?

_What does that have to do with-_

Do you?

_Yes, Barak, I do._

You ever hit her?

_No._

And she stays with you?

_That's an odd question, but yes, she stays with me._

You're a lucky man, Federatti. You know that?

_Yes, I know. Very lucky._

Guess you want to know the rest of it.

_Yes, Barak. I very much want to hear the rest._

Well, a few more days go by. Maybe that sleep helped the Vulcan some. He's looking better. The limp is almost gone. Have to look close to see it at all.

That's why when he comes to find me, I'm surprised. I'm sitting with my men, and over he walks. He's dressed pretty much like he was before. No cloak and the boots are gone, but he still got the short-sleeved shirt and what's left of his pants. His feet are bare. I remember thinking they are just like the rest of him. Long. Lean. Graceful somehow.

"I wish to talk with you, Mister Barak," he says. 

"So talk," I say.

He looks around at the others watching, then back to my face. "What I wish to discuss with you is private."

The others start laughing. I shut ‘em up with a look. "Anything you want to say to me, Vulcan, you can say in front of my men."

He pulls himself up real tall then, his hands go behind his back and he takes a deep breath. He's looking somewhere over my shoulder. "Very well," he says. "Am I correct in assuming you still wish to have sexual intercourse with me, Mister Barak?"

"Huh?" I say.

His eyes meet mine. Dark, almost black. "Do you still wish to...fuck...me?"

Lez, Darrew, Orin, the others start laughing. Falling all over themselves, they are. "Clear out," I tell ‘em, and they stop. They're getting up, making a circle around him. He don't seem to notice. Those dark eyes of his don't leave my face. "Out," I tell them. "Now." There's some grumbling, but they do what I say. I stand up to face him, and it's just the two of us. "I'm listening," I say.

"This is my proposal: You will take care of my...friend. You will see that he has enough food, enough clothing to keep him warm. He is not to be mistreated in any way. There will be no demands made upon him, sexual or otherwise, by you or any other person here. In other words, you will protect him. Is that clear, Mister Barak?" 

I remember what he says. Word for word. "Anything else?" I ask.

"In addition, you will not disclose...you will not tell him of this conversation. He is not to know. You will make it possible for him to have these things without his knowing they come from you or your men."

"And just how do I do that?"

"You will find a way, Mister Barak."

"And in return?" I say. 

"In return, I will...sexually submit to you. However often you wish. For as long as possible."

There was something strange in his answer, but I let it slide. "And just how long do I protect him, Vulcan? The rest of his life? That could be a pretty long time to pay for a few fucks."

He blinks, and one eyebrow rises up into his hair. "That will not be necessary," he says. "My friend will be leaving the Pit in three weeks, two days Standard. You may consider yourself released from our bargain at that time."

"Nobody leaves the Pit," I tell him. "Nobody."

"He will, Mister Barak. May I have your answer?"

I have to laugh. "You're pretty high on yourself, Vulcan. And if I say ‘no'?" I ask.

"Then I will look elsewhere," he tells me.

"What if I call my men back? What if I just decide I want you anyway? No bargain. No nothing. What if I just take what I want?" I ask him, just to see what he says.

He tilts his head a little, and then a small smile lifts up the corner of his mouth. Nothing like what he gave that other one, but it's a smile just the same, and it's for me this time. "I would be forced to resist, Mister Barak," he says. "I am afraid that by the time you took what you wanted, you and several of your men would no longer be in full working order."

I don't doubt it. Not for a minute. "All right," I say, before he can change his mind. He nods. "But I got some questions I want the answers to before we start." 

The smile goes away real quick at that. "And they are?" he says.

"Why? I want to know why," I say. "A man like you. Strong. Stronger than us. Leg's better, too. Why don't you do your own protecting? You seem to do a pretty good job of it up ‘til now."

"That is of no concern to you, Mister Barak. My reasons are my own," he answers, and the warning's back in his eyes.

I look at him real close at that. Walk around him once. He don't move but for the little shivers running down his body and the breath steaming from his nose. By the time I face him again I got it all put together. For as long as possible, he said. 

"You're dying, ain't you, Vulcan. You don't look it, but you are." He don't answer me. Don't have to. I know it...feel it somehow. "How long?" I say.

He don't say nothing.

"How long?"

"You are most perceptive. A week at most," he says, "most probably less. I come from a hotter, drier place than this."

"It's the fever, ain't it? The fever, like what Beshan had."

"Yes," he says. "I can feel the changes inside my body now. I will not survive it."

I don't get angry too often, Federatti. Can't afford to down in the Pit. You get angry, you get careless. You get careless, you get dead. But I get angry now. "Why would you do this for him? I seen him hit you. What is he that you do this for him? 

"You do not understand," he tells me.

"I understand that you think you love him."

He looks down, blinks once, then raises his eyes to meet mine. His voice is soft when he says, "What is love, Mister Barak?" It's almost like he really wants to know.

"You're asking the wrong person, Vulcan," I tell him. "I don't think there is such a thing." I watch him for a second or two, nod my head back over my shoulder toward his patch. "Does he know how much you care for him?"

He shakes his head slow from side to side. "No," he says, "he would not understand. My friend is a lover of women, Mister Barak. Anything more intimate between us would disgust him. It would destroy a relationship I hold most dear."

"You trust me. Why?"

"Since he must survive, I find I must trust someone, Mister Barak." Just for a second he looks past me to where the other one is. "I have learned to...trust...my instincts." I think I know who taught him that. His eyes return to meet mine, and the small smile is back. "A...hunch...if you will," he says, then he straightens. "So, Mister Barak, we have a bargain."

Now that it's really gonna happen, my cock slams up high against my belly. Yes, I want him. Any way I can get him. That shock you, Federatti?

_No, Barak. It should, but it doesn't. He's...he's an unusual man._

That he is. Down in the Pit, and up here, too, I think. I tell him to go get the cloak. I want to take him while he's wearing that cloak. 

He don't like that part. "My friend is sleeping, Mister Barak," he says. "The ground is cold." 

It's time for our bargain to start. "Get it," I tell him. He don't say nothing more. He leaves, but when he comes back a few minutes later he's wearing it. My men, the others start to gather round, watching, laughing. Can't do nothing about that. I see he knows it, too. Others see it, and they come over. Soon we got us a whole crowd. Just this space in the middle for the two of us. Somehow they know what's gonna happen. They can smell it, seems like.

"Take off the pants," I say, and my voice don't even sound like me. My heart...it's thumping like it's gonna break through my chest or something. He reaches under the cloak, opens his pants, slides them down. Black briefs underneath. He takes them off, too. Steps out of them and kicks them aside. He's beautiful, Federatti. Just a hint of black hair on pale skin showing from inside the cloak, his cock limp and lean. "Get on your hands and knees," I tell him. He does, that black cloak falls around him, hides him like the night. I move around behind him, lift it up his back. His skin...green it is, but pale, so pale, the globes of his ass, small and round and...perfect. I put my hands on his ass, spread his cheeks. It's the first time I touch him skin to skin. So hot. His hole a darker green against the pale of his skin. I can't wait no more, I pull down my pants, my cock's hard and weeping for him. I grab his hips and put my cock to his hole.

"What the hell...?" I hear. Then "Get your hands off him." I look up and there's that other one...that Jim standing there, hands on his hips and something like fire in his eyes. Gresh is standing next to him, the Vulcan's boots large on his small feet, the price for keeping watch over Spock's friend. Jim looks down at Spock. "Get up off your knees, Mister," he says slow and soft, but he's telling, not asking.

"Jim," Spock says. "You are not yet completely well. Go back and rest," he says, "This does not concern you."

"The hell it doesn't," he says. Then to me, "I told you to take...your...hands...off...him." 

Spock gets up, pulls on his pants and fastens them, then turns to face me "I will handle this, Mister Barak. Do nothing," he says. He walks to face the other one. "This is of my own free choice, Jim," he says. "You have no right to command me in this."

"The hell I don't," Jim says. "If you think I'm just going to stand here and let him fuck you-"

"That is your choice, Jim, as this is mine," he says. He drops his eyes for a second, swallows once, then raises them to look at Jim. "Please, Jim, go back and rest," he tells him.

I'm listening to the two of them, but it's like I'm not even there. Somehow I'm somewhere else....

_Barak?_

You got kids, Federatti?

_For God's sake, Barak, what does that have to do with-_

You got kids?

_Yes. Two. Two boys, seven and eleven. Are you all right, Barak?_

Mine would have been a girl, Federatti. A little girl with that dark hair...like Spock's...like Esma's. She would have been so beautiful. I would have made her laugh, just to hear the sound.

_I don't understand. Perhaps we should stop._

Esma aborted her the day she came to tell me she was leaving. Told me she don't love me. Told me she never had. Left me for a drugger named Vel. He beat her, you know. I'd see her on the street every now and then. Used to beat her bad. She went back to him time after time. Finally he beat her so bad he killed her. I went to him, hit him so he'd know how it would feel. He pulled a knife on me. I hit him again. He slips, falls. Hits his head. And he dies. 

_Barak...I'm sorry._

So you see? You see, Federatti? That's why I had to do it. So Spock would finally understand. So he would see the disgust on Jim's face. He'd have to face it then, wouldn't he? Whatever hold Jim had on Spock would be gone. He would turn to me...love me. He don't have to stay with someone who hits him, who don't love him. I would love him. Take care of him. I'd make him better. Somehow I'd get him through the fever. I'd make him live, and he'd love-

_Barak, what did you do?_

I tuck my cock back in my pants, get up and point to Jim. "You fuck him," I say.

"No," they say. Both of ‘em saying it together, glaring at me. Jim's eyes are wide, shocked. Spock's are flashing black fire.

Three of Fendor's men grab Jim. An elbow in the belly gets rid of one. The Vulcan goes wild, pulling the others away, tossing bodies aside. But there are just too many of them. It takes five men to hold the Vulcan down, and he don't give up struggling ‘til he sees Jorsh's arm wrap tight around Jim's windpipe and hears Jim's ragged breathing.

They haul Spock to his feet, and Fendor is there, one hand around Spock's throat, white bone shiv pressed to his neck. "Do it," Fendor says, "Do it, or I take him right here. Right now. And you next." He pushes the shiv in just a little. Green blood leaks out around the point. 

"All right," Jim says. Loud. Fast. He shrugs the others off. "All right, dammit. Don't hurt him."

Fendor lets go of Spock's neck and backs up.

Jim walks up to Spock. They stand there quiet looking at each other. "Jim, no," Spock says.

"Yes," Jim tells him. "Yes. I'm not going to stand here and watch him hurt you if there's anything I can do about it," he says.

Spock gets this look in his eyes. "I cannot," he says, and there's almost panic in his voice.

"You can and you will," Jim says. Spock turns his head away at that, but that Jim don't let him. One hand goes under the Vulcan's chin, and he turns him back so they're face to face again. "I wish we were someplace else. Anyplace else. I wish we were any of the places I dream of when I think about making love to you." Spock's eyes go wide. "Argelius, maybe, or home in the featherbed on the farm in Iowa, or on a le'matya skin on The Forge at night with only T'Kuht and the stars to see us. But here and now is all we've got," he says. He reaches up, unclasps the cloak from around Spock's shoulders, and lays it out on the ground. He steps onto it. "I declare this cloak holy ground, Spock," he says, and he holds out his hand. 

I'm thinking the Pit's never been that quiet, Federatti. When finally...finally Spock puts his hand in Jim's, I can hear the sighs. Jim gives a small tug, and Spock steps onto the cloak. Jim drops Spock's hand then and starts taking off his own clothes. All of them. In a few seconds he's naked. He don't try to hide himself or cover the way his cock is rising. Spock looks at him once, then tries to turn away again. "No," Jim says, and this time just his voice makes Spock turn back. "Look at me," he says. "Look at how much I want you." He reaches up and eases the black shirt up the Vulcan's arms and off and throws it aside. Bends to his knees and unfastens Spock's pants and draws them down and off. He gives Spock one long look. "You are so beautiful," he says. "So beautiful." A whisper, like he almost can't believe it. "Come to me," he says and grasps Spock's hands and tugs him down.

They're facing each other on their knees. Jim puts his hands on Spock's face, slides them up through that black hair, then down. That smile, that golden smile breaks out on his face, and he leans in slow and kisses Spock on the lips. Seems like forever he kisses him ‘till Spock lifts up his arms and puts ‘em so gentle at Jim's waist. Jim breaks the kiss then, and eases Spock down to the cloak on his back. He finds one of the Vulcan's nipples, pressing it, pinching it. Then the other one. When he bends to put one in his mouth, Spock's head snaps back. He makes a sound...a groan maybe, a sigh. Never heard no sound like that, Federatti. Never. Jim climbs up the Vulcan's body ‘til they're skin to skin their whole length. Spock's hands come up to Jim's shoulders. Like he's pushing him away or pulling him close. Like he can't figure out which to do. He turns his head aside and closes his eyes. "Jim," he says so soft and low. Can't hardly hear him. "Jim, the show is enough. They do not-"

Jim is so close to Spock's ear. "No show. They're not even here, Spock," he says. "Just you and me. Just us." He pats the cloak. "Sacred ground," he says. "I love you," he says. 

Spock turns back to look in Jim's eyes. Jim takes one of the Vulcan's hands. Puts it on his face like Spock did with Beshan. "See it," he says. "Feel it. Believe." Jim closes his eyes, and Spock presses his fingers, and they stay that way for a second or two. 

Then Spock pulls his hand back. Jim opens his eyes, and they're wet and shining. "You do love me." Spock says, and the smile is back on his face. 

Jim's not smiling. Not now. "You don't know the half of it," Jim says. A small choked voice. And this time it's Spock that slides his fingers into Jim's hair and reaches for the kiss.

Jim breaks away. Lands kisses all down the Vulcan's chest, belly. Down to that green thick cock. Puts his mouth around it. Takes it whole, he does. Down to the root, the Vulcan bucking and moaning under him. Touches his balls. So careful. So gentle. 

"Now, Jim, now," Spock's saying...begging. "Enter me," he says.

"God, Spock, no. I...I can't. There's nothing here to make the way easier. I'll hurt you," Jim says. Like he just now thinks of it. 

Spock sits up, grabs Jim's arms. "Yes," he says. "You can and you will," he says. He bends down. Takes Jim's cock in his mouth, licks it, sucks it, takes it all while Jim throws back his head, and Jim's eyes...his eyes, Federatti, are open and looking up like they're looking straight into Haven.

Spock pulls back and guides Jim between his legs, and Jim's sliding into him with one stroke, and they're....they're...it's not fucking. They're...making love. Long, sweet strokes. Spock arching up onto Jim's cock. Like they want it and need it and yet don't want it to be over. Can't bear for it to be over. They stop moving. They don't even breathe. And then they're coming...they're coming both together.

Sudden like I don't hear.... There's nothing but quiet, and I look up. All of them...Lez and Orin. Darrew. Gresh. Fendor and his men. All of them in the circle, Federatti, murderers and pickpockets, rapists and thieves, all of ‘em.... Sometime while Jim and Spock are together...they all turned their backs. Keeping the rest from seeing. Keeping ‘em quiet. I'm the only one watching them. 

Jim pulls out, and they kiss. He leans down, whispers something in the Vulcan's ear. Spock nods. And then Jim puts his clothes back on, pulls Spock to his feet and hands him his pants. When they're dressed, Jim reaches down for the cloak. Drapes it around Spock's shoulders and turns to me. "Put your hands on him again, Barak, and I swear I'll kill you," he says. 

Want to know something funny, Federatti? That Jim, he barely comes up to my shoulder. I got maybe twenty, thirty kilos on him. And I don't doubt for a minute he'd do exactly what he says. Not that I would...not after what I seen. 

Jim puts his hand on Spock's arm, turns to lead him out of the circle. Spock stops and turns back to me. "Love exists, Mister Barak. Do not doubt that. I have found it, and wish for you to find it as well." He does this strange sign with his hand. "Live long and prosper, Mister Barak," he says. Then he and Jim go out of the circle and back to their patch.

By morning the Vulcan's coughing up blood.

Lez is gone from where he beds down. Gresh, too. I see ‘em over by Jim and Spock. I head over there, and Gresh meets me halfway heading back. He don't let his eyes meet mine. His feet are bare. When I get there, Jim is holding Spock close to his chest, the Vulcan's head against where Jim's heart is. His breathing's heavy. Raspy. The black cloak rising and falling with every breath. Eyes shut tight. Green splotches cover Jim's chest, and Jim's eyes...oh, the look in his eyes, Federatti,...like a kid who's lost his way home. Down by Spock's feet are the Vulcan's boots. 

Lez puts down a small piece of cheese. I see others been there, too. A scrap of cloth, a cracker, a ripped, dirty rag.... People leaving what they can...like offerings. I take off my shirt and put it down with the others.

It goes on for hours-the men leaving things, and all the while Spock's breath sounding harsher ‘til finally you can hear the death rattle in his lungs.

No one deserves to die alone, Federatti. I'm thinking at least he'll have that.

Then, Federatti, the lights...they start blinking on and off. The men, they stop where they are. All over the Pit, they stop and look up. And a voice comes out of the ceiling like from Haven itself. "Prisoners," it says, like the voice of Jepswah, the Holy. "Stand away from the platform where you place the dead." The lights steady then, and they're beaming someone in. A whole lot of someones. Group after group of ‘em. Soldiers they are, in shiny silver uniforms with the Drana flag on the sleeves, and helmets that hide their faces. And phaser rifles in their hands. They step down off the platform and make a ring around it. "James Kirk and Spock...proceed to the platform," the voice says. 

Jim is helping Spock up. The Vulcan can barely stand, but the look on Jim's face says nobody better try to touch him. Instead the men step away as they come near. Leave a clear path for them. They let me through, too. The soldiers make an opening, but just as they're ready to step on the platform, Spock stops Jim with a word. He steps away from Jim and turns to me. His face is pale. There's blood on his lips, but he stands real straight. He takes off the cloak and...hands it to me. "Take care of them, Mister Barak," he says. He stumbles a little then, but Jim is there to steady him and help him up on the platform. They turn into one column of light, twinkling and shining like stars, and the light rises straight up to Haven itself.

_That's...that's an extraordinary story, Barak._

You know them, Federatti? You know Jim and Spock?

_I know of them._

Spock's all right then? And Jim, too?

_Yes, they're both well, Barak._

That's good then.

I got an itch to scratch, Federatti. How long you been doing this kind of work-going from prison to prison?

_About ten years now._

Why do you do it?

_I think I can make a difference._

Now what's the real reason?

_Spock was right, Barak. You are very perceptive. My father died on Althos Prime. A slave in the trillium mines. He...he died alone._

You got a name, Federatti?

_Miles Farnon._

Well, Mister Farnon, I guess I better get back to the Pit. I'll take that food and those five blankets now.

_I thought we had decided on three blankets, Barak, but of course I'll see you have them and the food, and as much as I can get together. Guess that'll make you about the richest man in the Pit, won't it?_

Oh, it's not for me. Lez hurt his leg in a fight with one of Zen's men. Fendor-big, dumb Fendor, cut himself with his own knife. And Gresh, stupid little.... Gresh is down with the fever. If I can keep him warm he'll make it. He's got to make it.

Oh, and Mister Farnon?

_Yes, Barak?_

Call me Mister Barak.

_Tape stopped_

**Interviewer's (s') Recommendations/Comments:**

**Recommendation #1:** Since Drana V is now petitioning for Federation membership, we need to work with them to modify their penal system. 

**Recommendation #2:** All present prisoners' sentences to be reviewed.

**Comments:** Your hunch was right, Diana. The two Starfleet officers in question submitted woefully inadequate reports. Now let's return the favor and make certain this one never sees the light of day. 

_I love you, Darling, and miss you more than I can say. I'll be home as soon as I can. Kiss the boys for me._ _Miles_

**Author's Note:**

> First published in First Time #53. Warm thanks go to Jenna Sinclair for her help with its development and to Lyrastar for putting it online.


End file.
